


A Dream of Spring

by Compass124



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Compass124/pseuds/Compass124
Summary: Post parentage reveal Jon struggles to understand the war to come, his feelings for Sansa, and the future of House Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

Truths that were hidden surfaced quickly in the hours following his homecoming. Winterfell's gates opened and it's secrets began to swallow him. Jon is sitting in the godswood after visiting with Bran and Sam. He stares down into the reflecting pool and sees his father's features, or so he thought. Father? All this time believing he was born to this world with Ned's honor. Ned's voice echoing in his ears all those miles from home. Has everything been a lie? Jon feels a chill blow around his neck. He shifts his shoulders to adjust his cloak. This damned cloak. Sansa and her beautiful, bright pleading eyes. 

"We have to go home, Jon" "You are to me."

The lies HAD gotten better. Desperate to keep Sansa safe had meant many lies. The last true promise he made, "I will protect you." Then he went south making claims to a dragon queen and lied to secure her heart for the war against the dead. All to protect Sansa. 

Maybe he was like Ned? Risking everything for the sister he loved. Lying to protect Lyanna and her son had cost Ned. Jon could lie to himself about his motives too. The lies building up like the walls of Winterfell. The Starks after all had insisted Lyanna was kidnapped and raped by the Targaryen prince. Robert's Rebellion a lie to be piled on more lies. 

Words, what do they mean? Snow? A clean white word cloaking Jon in chilly comfort for his whole life. Then Sam, eyes round as saucers, and Bran staring into the flames explaining how the blood he had spilled for the Nights Watch hadn't been Ned's, but Rhaegar's. Rubies at the Trident, littering the water.He knew it to be true. He was a Dragon. Not because of some Red god's magic that brought back his life or the look Ned gave him as they had parted ways, but because of Sansa. He knew standing on the battlements as the snow fell after battling Ramsey. The stirring in his heart to physically touch her. As the bastard of Winterfell, far away from the main table, his eyes had followed Sansa. He shamed himself into drunkenness and begged Benjen to speak on his behalf. He felt that same shame after taking Winterfell from the Boltons. A bastard had already defiled her, he swallowed his anger then. Promised her the best room, far away from his chambers. The pull of his heart was there all along, but it had been a source of anguish. When he went to strike Ygritte dead and he drew back his sword he had known the truth. That red hair shining against the white and fur.

The snow was falling. What now? He had been wrestling with his thoughts for hours and seen the guards change out at least twice. Daenerys would be rising soon, seeking him out to discuss plans and establishing her rule over Winterfell. Her violet eyes making demands of his people.

"Jon?", a voice behind him. 

He feels Ghost's breath hot on his neck. He knows it's her. He rises and turns to face her. Startled to find her red hair completely down around her shoulders and her eyes reddened with tears, he motions her toward him. Her beauty stops his racing mind. She stands tall with the first rays of sun breaking the fog off the pool. The weirwood tree behind her a perfect replica of weeping beauty.

"Jon, Sam told me that she burned them. His father and brother. He told me the price of refusing to bend the knee. I know what it's like to be captive, to play a part. I'm angry. I've been angry with you, but I will never let them take from me again."

Jon feels his heart pounding and he knows that he can't stop it, but there truly is no time left and he must protect her.

"Sansa, I believe Daenerys to be our best chance."

She laughs, a quick scoff. , "I suppose you believe her to be true to her word? On what terms? To fight Cersei after this war is over? You aren't listening to me, Jon. The only thing I seem to be able to count on is your deafness to my counsel."

Jon squares his shoulders. He has been preparing for battle for weeks now. Mining dragonglass on a damp island surrounded by horse lords and then on his fools errand to convince queens. He’s been waiting to be confronted since his arrival home.

"I knew I could count on your disappointment", He shoots back walking towards her. "I spent weeks on Dragonstone knowing exactly how I was failing the North and you. Aye, I made a promise to the Dragon Queen because I could see every outcome. None of them were fine. None of them ended without a battle. I told you when you came to the wall I was tired of fighting and then I found myself fighting. For the North, the men around me, and for you."

Jon finishes and he realizes he is a hand away from touching her. Sansa searches his eyes. She looks as he remembers her years ago before they left home. Up close he can see the heavy way her shoulders sag and the freckles on her lips. She looks down into the pool now and then back to his grey eyes. She pulls her cloak tighter and levels her icy gaze. He realizes that it is snowing again as the flakes catch in her hair making an ethereal crown. He wants to grab her, but he knows he can never be so unthinking in his touches. Always gentle. She has known nothing, but a man's unwanted touch.

"Bran told me about your real name. About your claim. I'm going to protect you. I don't trust her or Cersei. I know you are tired. We are all tired, but it's not going to be finished until winter is over. We survive this together", Sansa reaches out for his hand."Baelish taught me how to survive. I won't waste those lessons. I won't shame you for your choices with her, but I want to be honest now like I wasn't before. You are my family. Now and always", she finishes.

Jon closes his eyes as he soaks up her touch. It's just her fingers, but his hand burns through his leather glove. He starts to war inside again and he fights the sick blood he has been cursed with by a mad family of Dragons. Life and death is all he should focus on. He opens his eyes and finds her so incredibly close. Sansa nods at him and squeezes his hand once more as she turns and leaves the Godswood with Ghost trailing after her.


	2. A Dream of Spring 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfiction and I don’t think I have written anything since college. Forgive my unskilled entrance to A03. Thank you for having time for me and possibly sharing your works with me in the past on this site.

It had been a week since Jon had spoken privately to Sansa. He yearned for a private audience, but no opportunity had arisen.

"My Lord, a raven has just arrived from the Citadel. They want to know more about the Army of the Dead. It seems like news reached them of our truce with Cersei", said Davos as he extended the parchment to Jon.

Jon was reviewing maps of Winterfell in his solar and trying to determine the best ways to defend its walls. He read the scroll and asked for it to be passed to Sam. He would know how to respond and persuade them to provide answers from ancient texts.Davos continues to stand before Jon.

"Pardon my Lord, but as your advisor I find it difficult to advise when your thoughts have been silent for some time."

Jon looked up at Davos and could see the curiosity in his eyes."Aye sir, I don't find my thoughts silent, but I hope to see my plans through for my people. I spent my youth in this place and I was never trained to lord it, but I have to know it's walls better to defend it. Here in the crypts there are vast tunnels that need maintenance and maybe blocking. Do you think you could find a few men to explore these and determine what measures we need?"

"A smuggler's best talent is finding secret ways in, so I will see what I can do to keep the dead out. Pardon, but as much as the dead keep me awake so does this alliance you made", says Davos.

Jon knew this was coming. Davos had been keenly aware of his hesitation with Daenerys before his speech in the Dragonpit.

" I don't wish to put my pride before my people. We saw Mance Rayder burn for pride. I saw those dragons burn those wights by the hundreds. We need her. I think you know what happens when they come if we are not prepared", Jon replies.

"What I saw was a leader burn at the hands of a desperate ruler. Stannis only saw the throne. He let the red witch cloud his head with prophecy and he lost sight. I don't think that leading and ruling requires one man, but it can be necessary in times like these. Be careful with your promises. Dragons burn wights, but they are closer to these walls than the undead."

Davos left Jon's solar and Jon considers these words. Daenerys does not forgive disloyalty. He is interrupted by a rap at the door. He looks to see Tyrion. Tyrion enters and calmly sits in the opposite chair from the desk.

"Jon Snow, brooding in his natural habitat. Glad to see you are capable of it even in your leisure time. I have come to discuss just that, your leisure time", Tyrion folds his hands and waits for a response.

Jon feels himself bristle and shakes the defensiveness from his thoughts. A northern fool. He had already heard his lords protests and Glover's bold accusations of taking after Rob with foreign whores. Thankfully Sansa was able to soothe things over quickly and the meeting had only included the Northern houses. Yet, he still heard the guards at night when he slipped out to the Godswood hoping for another chance to speak with Sansa. He knew they spoke indecently about "riding a dragon" and "bending" on knees. Let them think he is a basic man with only fleshly desires. Better that than the truth of his depravity. Cousin. Aunt. The truth was a mockery. The lords would cheer as Daenerys burned him. Targaryen blood indeed. He refused his Aunt at every turn since knowing the truth. Feigning Northern etiquette and the people's pride. What a mess. Yet, Sansa beguiled them easily. Reminded them of their true enemies and the dead coming for us all. Uniting the North with her calm consistency. She had proved herself in his absence. Shoring up their supplies and preparing her people for a long winter.

"I haven't seen a Lannister ever be out of leisure. You've come to aid me in war plans? Without your Queen?"Jon is already afraid of where this may lead. 

He keeps his face void of emotion.

"Our Queen. I saw you leave her cabin on the boat here. As her hand I know these things. I assume you have discussed marriage? I think it's a fine match, but succession will be difficult. The North will be difficult. Jorah was received like a whore with disease. He may as well have kept the greyscale," says Tyrion as he leans back into the chair.

"There is no time for marriage and politics with the wall fallen. In this snowfall we are only given a few final days to prepare for the war for the living. I have my family to consider too. Marriage has not been discussed", Jon replies.

"Very well. I will discuss it further with Sansa, she and I know a great deal about marriage, good and bad. Thank you for the audience my Lord. I shall inform our Queen of your dedication to war planning and seek out Lady Stark myself."

And as quickly as Tyrion came, he left.Jon felt the anger zip through his veins. Does Tyrion mean to mock me? Or is everyone beyond believing a bastard capable of political negotiations. Jon throws his maps down, grabs Longclaw, and he heads to find someone to spar with. The iron throne is vapor compared to dead men.


	3. A Dream of Spring 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im trying to edit this chapter for easier reading, but it is all jumbled. Thank you for the patience while I work to fix the formatting

* * *

Arya is sparring alone with Brienne, Jon announces himself and slips off his cloak. Brienne looks relieved to be excused. Jon squares up and Arya quirks her eyebrows. His reunion with Arya had been very different from what he imagined. She looked every bit the sleek and trained swordsmen she had dreamed of becoming. He had expected an unhinged flailing of limbs as he came off his horse. Instead he was greeted with a calm, "Brother", and a tight hug. Arya quickly slipped into herself when there was no audience after the meal for his return. The first time they spoke alone she wielded a fancy dagger in front of the fire in Bran's solar and told Jon with glee of ridding the Starks of Little-finger once and for all. Arya “Underfoot” was still hidden in the depths of the new Arya. You just had to pay attention. Jon is taken off guard by Arya's skill. He finds her constant twisting to be a bit showy, but easily jarring to his focus. "This what they teach at the wall? Oi, glad you have a decent sword!" Arya floats around smacking Longclaw and finding the tip of Needle against his throat. "Yield! Arya, you're a proper swordsman...woman... lady," Jon stammers. "Don't hurt yourself. I can only use my needle for fighting. Sam or Sansa will have to see to sewing your wounds ", she disarms him and knocks him onto his back with a low kick to the ankles. As she deftly slips Needle back to her side and reaches out to help Jon rise, he notices a bloom of red on the ramparts. He quickly directs his gaze on Sansa and finds her openly amused by his defeat. Arya breaks their eye contact by speaking up. "I don't think you will find her smiling often. Go and see her, we've been planning. I can make family excuses if they come looking for you or challenge one of the Dothraki to a match. I can draw a crowd. I'm keen to learn sparring on horseback." Jon chuckles, dusts himself off and nods. He dons his cloak and follows his direwolf's wet paw prints to the opening of the crypts. He finds Sansa at the statue of their "father" and she turns to him only after he speaks, "Arya says you're planning something. Anything you wish to share or should I assume to find out when the hour grows late?" Her eyebrows knit together and he sets his torch into the sconce as she replies. "Mother used to scold father for all manner of things, but I only saw her truly angry when he refused to discuss things concerning you. A statue he would become on the topic. She would seethe afterwards and sometimes I would catch her weeping as she brushed out my hair. I spent time learning to be a lady from my mother, but there were greater lessons than dances and sewing. She knew her words. Family. Duty. Honor. She hated the meaning behind your bastard name. Your existence challenged her house words. I won't fail you like she did, Jon. I promised. You aren't my brother, but you are my family. I only kept the Knights of the Vale a secret because I didn't know if they would come and it felt weak to use my connection to Baelish to return to Winterfell. Now, I am being clear," she looks down at her gloves and back into his eyes, "I want to ask for your hand in marriage? The Lords will never accept you as a Targaryen when the truth is revealed. We both know it must be revealed. I know it isn't a dream, but it keeps you safe. She can't kill her remaining ally and she can't hold the North without you. The North won't stand a chance without my marriage to you. It's family, duty, and then honor." Sansa finishes the proposal with a resolute nod as the torches light her eyes. Jon is reminded of the tent before the battle against the Boltons. She swallows nervously and she searches his eyes for answers.Jon reaches his hands out, palms facing upward. She responds instantly in taking them and they lean into each other. "Sansa, I can't ask you to do this. I don't even think she will allow it," and with that Sansa jerks away. "I don't remember bending my knee. I don't remember claiming any King but you. I have been traded by men for my claim since I left these walls. Now I freely serve the North. My proposal is not pending the approval of a self righteous Dragon tamer. I am a Stark and I will protect our pack. We need no one's permission." Sansa is every inch a queen and in the flickering shadows of the Kings of Winter he knows where his loyalty lies. "Aye, but we have no time. I can't just marry you and leave for battle. This can't just rest on alliance. There are unsettled matters of politics that take time and can't be resolved overnight", Jon runs his hands over his face in thought. "You mean an heir?", she asks. There it is. The next secret he prefer lay hidden. He had dreams of sons running through the door of his solar tripping over Ghost. A daughter's hands holding his beard as he hums tunes Old Nan taught him. These were all his dream. Holding Sansa in the glass gardens, a crown of winter roses framing her lovely face. He has spent this whole time fighting his desires for what can't be, only to end up back at Winterfell with the future before him, yet soon ending with the Night King. "Sansa, I won't take your offer with anything less than the time you need. I can't wed you and bed you like a spearwife." "You must do what is necessary. There is no time for fancy notions and I am well aware. I want our pack together. The rest can fall in place or perhaps we all will die. All I know is we can't afford her to claim you from the North. I know what it means, what it makes us. If we die in the days to come, no matter, and if we live, it will be together. Decide and get word to me. Tonight will be our last chance." Sansa dissolves into the dark and Jon is left staring at the statue of a man who gave him a chance at life.


	4. A Dream of Spring 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do have plans to make this steamy, but Im a slow burn gal. Here is a little angst/fluff. Flashback pre-Dragonstone

There were times when Jon and Sansa shared an evening hearth after they had reclaimed their home. Her quick sewing a comforting spectacle as he pondered the tasks ahead. She mended the few tunics he had and she would blush when he questioned this. It was the only tangible proof he had of her affections. Little stitched direwolves into the lining to hide tears. Invisible to the eye, but carefully placed to remind him of her belief in his title and her love.Part of him felt passion beyond familial from her at every turn, but perhaps she was only acting on her frustrations. No doubt they fought. Fiercely and frequently. Leaving him to dwell on his insecurities. Yet, she would return to him always with affirmation and she would smile as she spoke of plans for repairs. He was very aware of her hesitation and sadness when he left for Dragonstone. She had come the night before he left to his solar to give him a linen tunic she had made.

"I used some fabric from shirts I found tucked away in a chest, I think them to have been Father's. Anyways, you've never been south and I thought a King should have a proper tunic when negotiating ", Sansa said as she passed the folded cloth in to his hands.

"Thank you. I hadn't considered tunics",   
Jon smiles and feels his anxiety slip away, "But I had every intention of wearing my cloak. A true King of the North would wear it in Dorne."

Sansa smiles at him. A rare thing that fills Jon's heart with distant memories of fields of flowers where they played as children. He treasures the things she makes. He has only been gifted Longclaw and her cloak. He never readies without both. They remind him of the two people who saw his abilities and pushed him toward leadership.Sansa lingers at the door and he feels a longing to kiss her again like on the ramparts. He stifles the desire and she slowly closes into his reach, brushing her lips against the apple of his cheek.

"Return to me. I can't be the only Stark in Winterfell", she softly smiles and leaves him aflame. 

Shame courses through him, but he feels the need to fulfill whatever request she makes of him.


	5. A Dream of Spring 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m writing quickly. I don’t know if I am giving polished quality, but I also think I don’t want to overthink things.

Sansa knew she had to act. Arranging schemes in your mind could only be worth something if actions followed. Baelish had been short sighted in the end. He underestimated Sansa's Tully background. He also never knew passionate love from anyone and neither had Sansa. It was easy to give the man nothing and him cling to it as hope.

Sansa made her plans quickly, she had feared that Jon may abandon her on hero's whims, but she had already spoken with Bran. Bran insisted on her expedience and with a void expression reminded her of Father's promise from years ago in Kings Landing.

In Baelish's failed manipulation of her feelings he had opened up a door that Sansa knew was better locked tight. Her feelings for Jon had constantly been a source of unsettling disorientation. When she saw Jon at the wall her heart knew immediately she had found what she was missing. It was easy to convince herself that she had missed family and safety. Ramsay's abuses were still recent and the only companions she could tolerate were Brienne and Jon.

"Brother". Mother never used that term. Father used it as an afterthought in conversation like he was correcting himself. Arya made "brothers" of every boy she met and Rob had nothing, but fondness for Jon.

Jon was not her brother. Jon was Jon. Jon was home. Jon was brave, gentle, and strong. Ned's face flashed in her mind. When would these voices end? She knew Ramsay had ruined her with his games. Jon's eyes held hope and she was all to eager to stand beside him whatever the cost. She knew her body craved his touch, but she would scold herself or lie about what it meant.

When Bran uttered "Aegon", she knew. She felt a singing in her blood that she thought was forever dead. They began discussing what must be done, but it was like the world had shifted and she could feel herself running through dark trees with nothing but crystal stars above her.

"Sansa."

Sansa shook back to earth. Bran knew. Her heart was racing. Bran knew everything. She looked down at her gloves. Arya, Sam, Gilly, and Brienne were all silent, but in agreement.

"Sansa, he is our cousin. He is our family. What happened to us all has led to this. We must be united to defend ourselves. I see better with every day, the lords will not question you, but they will question if you show hesitation."

"He is right," said Sam. "The North will honor your commands."

Sansa understands. She must give Jon her name. Bran and Sam would handle the disclosure of the Maester's texts, but she must be Lady of Winterfell.When they finished she retired to her solar to prepare. She discreetly asked Gilly to help her and was ever so grateful for the comforting way Gilly sang of "Bael the bard" and helped her sew. A task to distract from more complicated feelings.


	6. A Dream of Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret wedding

Jon sought Bran's counsel and had agreed to the plan. 

Jon found himself in the Godswood again alongside Sam, Davos, and Tormund with torches in hand. The snow is falling with puffs of air between them. Jon had washed himself raw and hadn't had the time to secure his unruly hair, but he had never felt warmer.

He focused his eyes on the clearing.Tormund was getting restless beside him. The wildling had been unphased when Jon had told he and Davos of this plan.

"Right," Tormund huffed as he unscrewed his goats milk flask, " drink up Snow. All weddings need drinking."

Davos had questions behind his eyes, but they stopped when he saw Jon take down Tormund's entire pouch.

They heard movement and found Bran being pushed by Gilly to the side of the pool. Jon nodded and Bran turned in his chair as if to stand.

In the clearing Jon made out the shape of Arya in a finer outfit escorting Sansa to the center of the Godswood. He couldn't breathe. 

She was everything he ever dreamed. He remembered the snowfall beyond the wall and all the glittering beauty the white world held. How he had wished Sansa could've seen it too. Sansa looked beyond that beauty now. She had blue roses woven through a braided crown. Her blazing hair fell gently around her shoulders that were mostly exposed by a wide neckline of dark grey fur. Her dress was otherwise white and flowing loosely at the waist. He felt his dragon blood rise in heat when her uncertain eyes met his.

He hadn't seen many weddings and he knew that they were skipping some parts. Sansa smiles upon him and all is a hum in his ears. He just hears the steady swooshing of his once dead heart. Her skin is glowing and her lips are calling to him. He realizes with embarrassment that she has gifted him something.

"I had Gendry make it with iron. He's quite good, " said Sansa as she hands him a simple and solid crown. " It's not fancy, but it's only right that if I make you my King I give you a crown."

He pulls her closer as she places it on his head. All the words are exchanged and when they finally kiss he hears Ghost howl somewhere in the distance.Sansa is the first to pull away and he silently promises to come back alive and worship only her until the end of his days. 

The ceremony has ended and so have all his hidden objections. He knows there will be scandal and massive fall out with Daenerys when she learns of his betrayal, but the dead don't wait and all he may have is now. The armies don't matter. The throne has never mattered. His pride. His pride will never matter again compared to Sansa. He sees it now. The screen of honor has lifted and all the love she holds for him is blazing in front of him. It's all rushing around. Her touches and smiles. The cloak surrounding him. He smiles at her. The widest smile he has ever given another. She smiles back and they retreat from the Godswood together.


	7. A Dream of Spring 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncharted territory, but I will be breaking this up to capture how I feel it should play out.

Sansa feels like a winter goddess. Her hair is wild compared to her usual braids. She was tired of pulling her hair back. Tired of covering up. Ramsay is dead. Winterfell is home again to living Starks and she will keep the North alive. 

Daenerys can never help herself to Jon again. After tonight Sansa has made him a true Stark. His Northern grey eyes and his dark falling hair have only ever been Stark. 

Even though the dead march on, a fire blazes in the Lords Chambers. Sansa feels a bit like a princess from her forgotten childhood dreams. Her icy white gown clings to her form and she carefully begins to unpin the fragrant roses from her hair. She can feel Jon's eyes on her in the looking glass and she smiles shyly at him. He looks better than any husband she ever fancied for herself, but she sees his brooding gaze turn to the fire.

She knows he is fighting again, only this time he fights himself. He rises from the chair to stoke the flames and lean into the mantle. She watches his hands grab onto the wax and she remembers he has never had a wedding night. 

"I'm not afraid, Jon. You are my home forever and I choose you," she says in a full voice. 

"I know. I guess I dreamt of this differently, but I am afraid. It's everything I ever wanted, but it has come with great loss too. I don't want to lose anymore. I don't want her to hurt you. Let me do that," he replies as he begins to help unpin the remaining flowers. 

"She won't know until after you return. The Lords will know your sword belongs to the North once you defeat the Night King. Sam will announce our union and explain the politics of your birth. She can't refuse us because she needs you to secure the Iron Throne."  
Sansa watches his hands work to free her soft, copper strands. 

 

"No more of this. I have never been so happy. A secret selfish dream. After coming back from the dead you have been my purpose, my family. I'm not asking for anything. I don't even know if you feel this too, this pull, though I think you do? I can’t stop it," Jon rambles. 

She kisses him. Pouring her entire self into completing their embrace and saying with her lips all that she feels.

Jon, of few words, has just spoken of his heart.   
Jon catches his balance on the vanity and then lifts her carefully and walks towards the bed. 

It quickly unfolds like a dream. She keeps her focus on him and he smiles. He tentatively kisses her while gauging her eyes and finds her answering smile the only encouragement he requires to continue. 

There is no more talking. He is saying everything with his hands gently undressing them both. She is left in her shift and he is stepping out of his pants. He climbs back over her and smiles again. How she missed his smiles. Though they were rare before Dragonstone she hadn't seen many since his return. She was certain the memory of Jon's smile above her, naked as his name-day, would warm her until his return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not done with this scene yet, but I felt like they needed to talk beforehand. This writing business isn’t easy! Thank you for the feedback and I think ultimately I will edit this, but for now, I’m rolling with my enthusiasm.


	8. A Dream of Spring 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle with me haha!

Hands and lips are fluttering over her asking silent permission. Her answer to him will always be "yes".

She had nothing to compare this to. This feeling was unknown. She had only heard whispers of this. He had never had a wedding night and she had never had a true bridegroom.

He sets her hair to one side and slides his nose along her neck while leaving a trail of tingles. She lets out a sigh and moves her hands to his shoulders. 

So many touches were forbidden until now. Now they feel like breathing.She feels her body aching for more. She knows he will never take this beyond her lead, but she is desperate for friction. They must do this tonight. 

She slips one hand between them and strokes him against his thigh. She feels daring and nips against his ear while running her other hand through his hair. He rewards her with a , "Gods be good, Sansa."

She notices a shift in his breathing and kisses him soundly before she flips them over. Sansa wants to see him beneath her and slowly join them. Part of her is terrified, but she had heard this position could give her the control. 

She takes hold of him again and smiles. He is quickly silenced by her slowly sliding onto him. Delicious heat washes over her and she closes her eyes. To be this close is a sin, except it's not. They are one.She holds still as her body adjusts and she moans when she sees his hands flex against the sheets. 

She takes his hand and puts it on her cheek and slowly she rocks against him. He gently places his other hand on her waist and steadies her.The room is growing hot and she never knew she could feel this full. Every rock she makes brings her closer back down to his body humming in pleasure.

He shifts them again so he is on top and he covers her entirely. It's the safest she has ever felt. His strong body cloaking her while she holds his shoulders. He groans and pushes forward and it sends waves through her body down into her center.His mouth is so sweet and he kisses her wildly as he quickens their pace.  
She feels all the heat building and then crashing in a delicious end as she gasps his name.

The room is spinning. She feels like a sheet hanging to dry in the summer sun. He kisses her again and she grabs his handsome face in her hands. She traces his beard as he grins like a wolf.

Sansa raises her knee up to readjust and she watches Jon's eyes darken as his gaze shifts to her breasts. He reaches out to cup them gently and he whispers words of beauty as she returns from floating. Then his dark eyes are looking up to her as he places a palm on the center of her back and draws her up until her nipple is in his teasing mouth. 

Light fills her vision as she hears herself cry out to this sensation. His hips begin their momentum again and he finds a new angle. She knows he is close and she is determined to give him release.

As they pursue their end together she winds her fingers into his curls and whispers promises to him. Promises of Spring. He kisses her and they moan into each other's mouths as they reach perfection together.


	9. A Dream of Spring 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trailer guys!!!!! I was surprised to see and hear some ideas I’ve had in my head about the canon. Overall though, I don’t think I will do another fiction like this. I think AU may be more suited for me. It’s hard to keep the characters true when I am interpreting them into my own plot. Kudos to some of you who are able to write these characters true to canon.

Jon's eyes opened to the ceiling above him and a perfect soreness to his muscles. He feels her beside him in the bed and can hear the sleepy rhythm of her breathing.

Seven hells! He has married Sansa. He has bedded her and she has by all signs enjoyed it. He will surely die in the war to come if his dragon's blood has already defiled his sister... cousin... WIFE.

Daenerys has no idea of what is transpiring. His betrayal will come with a price. He may not live to see her fury, but he must survive for Sansa. 

Silence in this chamber. The sun is yet to break, and the embers from last night are still glowing orange in the ashes of the hearth. He moves to grab his tunic and rekindle the flames.He hears the crackle of the sparks as he shifts the kindling around and breathes around the charred wood.

Today he will leave to meet the army of the dead at Last Hearth and try to push them back beyond the wall. Bran has ideas to keep them from advancing. Sansa is a dream resting peacefully in bed. She faces away from him, but he is drawn to the furs dipping across her waist. She had so eagerly wanted him.

He never thought she would be ready given their circumstances and her past abuse. Yet she had given him an entire night of passion and intimacy. He had never belonged to anyone before as simply Jon. He would love her and protect her from whatever came their way. 

He continues to watch her sleep as he prepares to make his leave.He sees the endless number of scars across her back. The most disturbing are the jagged teeth marks and the burns. He notices that they seem most confined to one area and he feels his rage roaring. He reminds himself she is a survivor just like him and she will prevail without his sword just as she has always done.

He will not allow his protective brooding to ruin these quiet hours. Instead he wants to remember her lips against his scars. The drag of her fingers in his hair. The way her breathing hitched when he would sheath himself inside her. If they only had the one night he would not waste it. He had found her to be insatiable and she had wanted him more than he thought his stamina would allow. War planning had amped his adrenaline and his desire to belong. She held him, kissed him, and never stopped affirming him. Where words we clipped and veiled before, they flooded in the bedroom. Finally able to be two people together and have no reservations. 

 

John finishes tugging on his belt, fastening his cloak, and pulling on his gloves. He sees the crown on the vanity and he smiles. Her belief in him. He can face this. He can lie to Daenerys. To Tyrion. To Cersei. He will do whatever it takes to defend his people and his family.  
He runs his gloved hand against her lovely fire kissed hair and he savors the curve of her cheek resting against the pillow. 

He quickly secures the door. Nodding to Brienne as he reluctantly makes his way to Daenerys' solar. 

He drops his shoulders and sighs. Raising his eyes on the door as he knocks and feels the weight of the living press down on him. He feels the void slip back, the dark space his mind frequents to ponder difficult choices. He can be his father if only it means he can come home.


End file.
